Burning Thoughts
by RandomGhostie
Summary: It's when the silence kicks in and there's nothing to do that bad, horrible thoughts return to my mind burning into my skull like a fire. Like the fire that covered me years ago.


Sitting at home on my own is the worst part of the day.

Everything is silent, everything is empty. No atmosphere at all within this room, within any room.

It's when the silence kicks in and there's nothing to do that bad, horrible thoughts return to my mind burning into my skull like a fire. Like the fire that covered me years ago.

Peeta works in a bakery five days a week, the children are old enough for school so I don't have to look after them. It took me a while to agree to children but they kept my mind off the bad thoughts for a while. Only for a while. Now they were at school they were away as much as their father, five to six hours they are usually away.

I can keep the thoughts away the first hour or two by cleaning the house. Polishing the work tops, tending to the garden, making sure all the toys are away and the painting brushes are clean. But once that is done there is nothing but sitting in front of the television. Every day I do the same. Every day I turn on the television and flick through the channels looking for something interesting, something to keep my mind off everything and anything.

But I am met with the same result, nothing to watch.

So now I sit, in the living room alone with only the silence to keep me company. That is when it starts. That is when the sudden thoughts consume me; hit me like a tidal wave in District 4 on a partially bad storm day. District 4 makes me think of Annie, Annie with her son who is getting older and older, becoming a young man and working to get fish and provide for his mother and his own family.

The last time I saw Annie she told me that he had begun to tie knots when he was having trouble catching fish, almost as a stress relief. He was becoming more and more like Finnick every day.

_Finnick._

That's when it hits me. The crippling thought of his family being left without a father and without a husband pushes me back within my seat. His death flashes before my eyes, his body being dragged back down by the ugly horrifying mutations. His body being ripped limb from limb and his horrified face as it happened. It stuck to my brain like a nasty bug, eating away and making my throat close up.

It has been years, many many years since the horrible fight was fought and won. But his face is still in my brain fresh, as though it happened yesterday. I wish I could have saved him. I wish that I could have saved everyone that died in that horrible war and the horrible games which I myself had to participate in.

Glimmer and the District 4 girl who were sentenced to death by myself when I dropped the tracker jacker nest upon them. Their horrible puss filled bodies that lay on the floor as the cannon blew. The poor District 3 boy whose neck was snapped by Cato after I blew up the supplies, Foxface who stole the berries that killed her, Thresh who practically sacrificed himself to save myself by killing Clove. Cato who had the most horrible death of all, I had to kill him to end his life quicker. Otherwise… I can't even imagine the sort of pain he would have gone through. Clove who was killed by Thresh and Marvel who was killed by myself after killing Rue.

_Rue._

That was when it all started, that was when the rebellion truly was put into action. Her body slowly drifting away as I sung to her in the middle of the arena, the spear through her stomach, the look on her face as she slowly slipped away.

She saved my life. She saved my life and I couldn't even do the same for her, all I could do was accomplish her last request of being sung to. I even lay flowers around her but that isn't the same. She was the eldest out of her siblings, what must have gone through their minds as they saw their sister murdered. All the families that saw their sons, daughters, sisters, brothers murdered.

I remember as she followed me in the training centre, how she told me about her favourite thing in the world, music. She got my trust, something which not many people could do. The death replayed in my mind over and over as tears hung on. I tried to stop them from pouring down my cheek; the thought of the painting of her that Peeta did made my breath become shallow and my heart pound. I can see her jumping through the trees quickly; she was light on her feet. Her posture and innocence reminded me of Prim.

_Prim._

My sister, my lovely caring sister with the hands of a healer taken away from me in one split second. She was reaped; her name was only in the bowl once. But she was reaped. I volunteered to protect her, I volunteered to make sure she was safe and that nothing could harm her. But she was now gone.

Her fair skin, her blonde hair her bright blue eyes and small stature, she had a face which was as fresh as a raindrop. I remember seeing the blonde plait running down her back and the back of her shirt. I remember screaming out her name as the parachutes dropped and the second wave of bombs exploded. And that was it.

I'd lost her.

My sister, the one I was fighting for. She was gone.

Tears streamed down my cheek as I stared at the empty television, all the horrible thoughts of those I had lost and what had happened were flowing around my mind. My sister, my friends, and people I didn't even know were stole away from their families. All to stop the Capitol. To stop the horrible games.

Suddenly a cheerful giggle could be heard outside my home, standing up quickly I looked through the window to see my children running down the path. Their bags high on their backs and smiles on their faces, with my husband walking behind. Moving quickly I did what I always did, I grabbed a tissue and began to wipe my face quickly sniffing loudly to clear my throat. I walked to the hallway wiping my eyes for a few more seconds. I shoved the tissue into my pocket as the door opened.

I put a smile on my lips, one which became genuine as they ran to me with extended arms and cheerful faces. I hugged them for a moment before they ran away yelling about something that happened at school.

My head rose and a kiss was planted on my lips by my husband, he smelt like bread. He always smelt like bread.

"How was your day?"

He would always ask. No exception. I couldn't tell him about my thoughts, the thoughts I have when I am left alone with nothing to do but stare into a blank television. So I would always reply the same words.

"Much better now you've all come home."


End file.
